


We Were in the Neighborhood

by shouldhaveknownbetter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Cleanup, Established Relationship, F/M, Fallout, MJ POV, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Sokovia Accords, Spideychelle, Swearing, between consenting teenagers, coffee shop meet-ups, except emotionally, library meet-ups, of course, semi-explicit sex scene, that is barely relevant to the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 07:04:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19420912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shouldhaveknownbetter/pseuds/shouldhaveknownbetter
Summary: It’s study night at the coffee shop for Peter, MJ, and Ned, but Peter can’t sit still.  Something’s up.  Or maybe he’s about to get a visit from some rogue Avengers who are in town to check in with him after the events of Captain America: Civil War.  But they sure took their time, because enough months have passed that MJ and Peter have hooked up, and she’s fully informed about his superhero entanglements.  Oh, and she has some opinions.So, Marvel might be a multiverse now, so maybe somewhere, this happened.





	1. Definitely Not Another Coffee Shop AU

**Author's Note:**

> Can you guys believe that there was a whole movie about how superheroes were gonna have to answer to some sort of oversight and then they completely dropped that idea like it never happened, except to remind us that Captain America and Iron Man were still Mad At Each Other? What if the events of Captain American: Civil War actually maybe caused some people some problems beyond breaking up the Avengers? It sure seems like Peter Parker might have had some strong feelings about those Accords’ impact on his life and super hero-ing. But since that would be too easy, this is entirely from MJ’s point of view. Spoiler: she’s not that sympathetic to Tony Stark or anyone else who’s superpowered and not Spider-Man.
> 
> Could be read as a sequel to my previous story [Team Building Exercises](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18399818), but also could be read as a stand-alone with only the understanding that Peter and MJ are A Thing.

Chapter One – Definitely Not Another Coffee Shop AU

“Ease up, weirdo. You’re twitching even more than usual,” MJ says as Peter’s knee knocks into hers for the tenth or 40th time. “Is there something on your conscience? Did that last energy drink push you over your caffeine limit?”

“What?” Peter’s eyes slide past her face as the door the coffee shop opens behind her and then they snap back. “No. What? I’m fine. Maybe I’ll have another coffee, just to stay awake.”

Ned and MJ exchange glances. They’d gotten to the Beanery only about a half hour ago and staked out one of the long, battered wooden tables to spread out to study for their upcoming Chem test, but so far Peter had been unfocused and distracted, looking up every time someone pushed by their table and jumping whenever the door opened.

“Dude,” Ned says. “Level with us. Is there something going on? Do you need to go?”

MJ turns in her chair, away from Peter and the interior of the coffee shop, and slowly looks around. It was one of their favorite study places because it was well-lit, not too noisy, and had cheap drinks and snacks. Now that it was spring and heading towards the end of the semester, they’d been there nearly every night. Or rather, Ned and MJ had been there, saving a seat for Peter who joined them when he could and left without recrimination. Tonight, though… MJ surveys their fellow coffee drinkers and considers Peter’s restlessness.

Ned leans in, conspiratorial and loving it. “Do you think there’s something about to happen? Is there something _going down_? Something _dangerous_?”

“I don’t know,” Peter says helplessly and clenches his hands. “It feels….it feels like a sort of ‘pay attention’ but I have no idea _what_ to pay attention to! I’m just…I can’t…”

“Your spider sense is bullshit,” MJ says still looking slowly over the other tables.

“I’m not going to argue with you about that.” Peter’s eyes dart around. “Is this what it feels like to be on drugs? If it is, I am absolutely never doing those.”

Ned shakes his head. “With your metabolism, you’d probably never get high or even paranoid. Not for long, anyways. From what I figure, based on how many calories you have to consume, you probably can’t even really get drunk, though I have some plans for some controlled experiments we’ve got to do this summer to be sure – ”

MJ stiffens and then turns slowly back to Peter. “Can you be cool?” she asks.

“You know I can’t,” Peter says. His eyes flit somewhere over her shoulder and back to her face, roaming over her forehead and down to her left ear. 

“Fair enough. If I tell you _not_ to look in a certain direction, can you _not_ look there?”

“Um. Probably not. No.”

MJ breathes out, very slowly. “Great, well. Let’s try _this_. Hold my hand.” She reaches across the table palm up. Peter hesitantly closes his fingers over hers. “Okay, good. Look down at our hands. Ned, you too. Look. Are you looking? Okay. Don’t look up. Okay. Black Widow is at the counter by the door and I think Captain America is the guy reading the menu. No – _don’t look._ ”

Peter’s chin goes up, but dips down again as MJ clamps down on his hand.

“Holy Shit,” Ned breathes. “Are you sure?”

“Of course not, but they both have super distinctive profiles, and I noticed her by the door when we came in. She’s been sitting there alone this whole time, not drinking, pretending to look at her phone. She’s blonde now, but I’m pretty sure it’s her.”

Peter is gulping, but keeps his eyes down. “They’re here for me. Right? There’s no way that this is a coincidence?”

“Seems that way,” MJ relaxes her grip on Peter’s hand the tiniest bit, but discovers that he’s still clutching hers, so she squeezes back. “Look, they probably just want to talk. If they were gonna throw down, they’d have come up to you on patrol or something, snuck up on you in an alley. They’re here now because they want you to feel safe, right? There are people around. Ned’s here. I’m here. This isn’t a kidnapping or an assassination.” She nods in what she hopes is a reassuring way.

“So, what do I _do_?” Peter asks.

“You’re asking us???” Ned is incredulous.

“Yeah. Tell me what I should do. Should I pretend that I don’t see them and wait to see what they have planned? Confront them? Order more coffee and pretend to bump into Captain America, then ask for his autograph?”

“That might be awkward since I’m pretty sure he’s still wanted for crimes or whatever,” MJ says.

“Oh, jeez. Do you think they’re taking a risk by coming to see me?”

“Probably, but it’s not like you’re being surveilled, right?” MJ is trying decide if she could be subtle enough to pull out her phone and pretend to take a selfie to check on Black Widow….

“Well…” Ned and Peter exchange glances. “Pretty sure we disabled all the tracking software on the suit and convinced Karen not to transmit any recordings or location data unless my life was in danger…”

“Is that why you always dump your suit in the closet when we – ” She stops herself. “And this is relevant because….” MJ waits but neither fills in the blank. “…because the suit is in your backpack under the table right now? Because the suit is under your _clothes_ right now?”

“One of those two, yes.” Peter nods.

“Wow, how is this a surprise to you?” Ned asks. “Don’t you know he’s usually wearing it? I mean, don’t you usually know what he’s wearing? You know what I mean….”

“Ugh, not the time and not the point. The point is that Peter said he was gonna leave it at home this week. Because of the big test?”

“Well, I didn’t. I was feeling…something…. nervous…. I guess…”

“Maybe these guys – ” MJ jerks her head in the general direction of the two potential superheroes “ – have been tailing you for a while. And your spider-anxiety has been low-level trying to warn you.”

Peter nods. “So, we don’t think they’re here to hurt me? Right? That’s our conclusion. I mean, as you said, they’ve had plenty of chances. But that means…what? Should I go over and say something?” He grimaces and then tries out a super dofus-y voice. “’Uh…may I recommend the mocha. It’s super rich’?”

A man in a battered leather jacket slides into a chair at the end of their table, two spots away from Ned. “’Sup. How’s the wifi here? You got the password?”

Without looking, Peter rolls out of his chair and puts himself between the newcomer and Ned and MJ.

MJ startles and knocks into her coffee, splashing herself a little before recovering and keeping the cup from toppling over.

“HOLY SHIT,” Ned says. “You’re the Falcon.”

“What? _No_. Just some dude looking for a place to use his laptop for a while.” But he’s grinning, and he doesn’t have a laptop.

There’s a beat while everyone exchanges glances, then Peter takes another step forward, still tense, still trying to get between his friends and Sam Wilson. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here.”

“Sure, sure.” Sam spreads his hands wide to show that they’re empty. “We were just in the neighborhood. Thought we’d make sure you were still off the Accords radar. See if Tony Stark turned you over to them or if he was a hypocrite, but savvy enough to keep you out of sight.”

“I’m not…” Peter stops himself and checks the counter. The bearded man who had been carefully studying the menu was gone. As was the blonde at the table by the door. “You don’t really want to talk about this here, do you?”

“Nah.” Sam slides a card over to him across the tabletop. “If you want to talk, meet us tomorrow afternoon.”

MJ slaps her hand over the card. Ned jumps. Peter doesn’t even blink or look at her. “No,” she says.

Sam pulls a face, but he’s amused. “Oh, yeah?”

“He’s got decathlon practice tomorrow. And he’s not stupid enough to just go where you tell him. The Accords are bullshit, but you and your friends don’t have any accountability either.”

Sam leans forward and rests his chin on his hand. “Go on.”

MJ’s scowl intensifies. “Give us a contact number, and we’ll set up a meet at a neutral location.”

“There’s a number on the card.” He shows all his brilliant teeth as he laughs. “Where were you when Stark recruited him? He coulda used you.” Sam stands up. “You say the mocha is good here, huh?” And then he ambles away from their table, not stopping at the counter as he exits through the door and onto the street, not looking back once.

“Ho- _ly_ Shit…” Ned says.

“Ned, you gotta broaden your vocabulary, find a new expression, because soon you’re meeting Captain America,” MJ says.


	2. War Meeting (We’re Not Calling It That, Ned)

Chapter Two – War Meeting (We’re Not Calling It That, Ned)

The meetup doesn’t happen right away.

True to her word – threat – MJ makes Peter go to Academic Decathlon practice, study for his test, _take_ the test, and then they have a war meeting. Well, _Ned_ called it that.

“It’s a war meeting because it sounds cool and because we don’t know what’s gonna happen, if we’re going up against friendlies or not,” he explains, defending his choice even though no one said anything.

Peter paces back and forth. They are in his room because…well of course they were. Talking about this anywhere else was simply stupid. Not that Peter has traditionally been great at secrecy…but there was such a thing as trying to improve.

MJ watches him from her perch on the lower bunk. “Hey,” she says softly. “Hey, we don’t have to call it that. You don’t have to think of it as a war. It’s more like…divorced parents, I think. You know, tense and awkward, but there was once some, you know, _love_ there. _History_. No matter what, I think everyone involved is trying to do the right thing.”

“Divorced parents? That’s an amazing mental image. Thank you. I’d like to think that’s what’s going on. But, don’t you think they’re here to pump me for information on Mr. Stark?” Peter continued pacing. “We’ve established they’re not actively hostile or at least they’re playing a long game if they are.”

“Okay, let’s think about this. Before that mess where Tony Stark kidnapped you and took you to Germany for – no don’t try to correct me. I stand by that description. Anyways, before all that, what would you have thought Captain America was doing here?”

“Before I got the suit upgrade? Before everything? Before the Vulture? I’d have thought…” He rubbed his neck and shook his head. “I’d have thought he was checking in on me. Looking out for me. He always seemed so _kind_ whenever I heard him talk. Black Widow not so much. If she just showed up, especially alone, I’d have probably swallowed my own tongue.” His shaky laugh didn’t entire sell it as a joke.

“And do we all agree that Captain America most likely would _not_ have recruited you to go punch people in Berlin?” MJ looks from Ned to Peter. “Yes?” she says more insistently when neither of them meets her eyes. “Guys, I know you both love Tony Stark, but I think we’ve had enough distance from what happened to know that was bullshit. The Accords may have had a good idea at their core, but they weren’t very well thought through. For government class, I started reading the stuff that…” Off their looks. “ _What_?” She rolls her eyes and continues. “Look, it’s not my fault you haven’t developed an opinion about the Accords beyond ‘superheroes are cool’ especially when it impacts you so personally. But this is your opportunity to get Captain America’s side of the story and maybe think it over, compare it to what you already know.”

Peter had stopped his pacing and, despite the tension in his shoulders, he now looked at MJ with the expression that always sent shivers across her body. A wry sort of smile, but with heat in it. _Gah_. “How ‘bout you just tell me what the right opinion is and I’ll go with that.”

MJ thwacks Peter on the shoulder. Hard. “For someone who has such an over-developed sense of right and wrong, your own existence is _so_ unexamined. Maybe pause for some reflection once in a while.”

“Ow,” he says mechanically, just for show. He’s not actually hurt. Much. “Yeah. I mean, you’re right. But sometimes I just end up tying myself up in knots trying to figure out what the right answer is when I’m pretty sure there isn’t one. Like, now. I don’t think the right thing to do is to meet up with Captain American and basically throw Mr. Stark under the bus. I may not be able to be objective about him, but he’s trying to do the right thing. And he’s helped me out as much as he’s also complicated my life. So, I’m not going to go in there and trash him.”

Ned looks expectantly at MJ who doesn’t roll her eyes, as much as she wants to. “And no one really expected that you would,” she says. “But maybe listen to their side of the story? Ask them to fill you in on what Tony Stark isn’t telling you. Because he’s obviously leaving some stuff out. Important stuff. You deserve to be able to make decisions knowing all the facts. Not just whatever Tony Stark wants you to know in order for you to do what he needs from you.”

“And!” Ned jumps in. “Ask for them to help train you! Maybe you can go on some missions with Black Widow.”

“Ned.” Peter closes his eyes and his whole body shudders. “I literally wouldn’t be able to speak in her presence. I would open my mouth and only high-pitch noises would come out. Every dog in the area would cry.”

“Didn’t you already meet her?” Ned can’t believe this. “I thought you, like, _hung out_ in Berlin when Tony Stark recruited you?”

“Well, sort of. I mean, I stood _next_ to her. I think that Mr. Stark introduced us and said ‘she’s on our team, don’t try to fight with her,’ but I gotta be honest, it was a blur.”

“Fucking Tony Stark,” MJ says through clenched teeth.

“Hey!” Ned and Peter say in unison, offended on behalf of their hero. 

MJ’s self-restraint fails and she rolls her eyes. “So predictable.”

Peter tries to act huffy, but can’t. “I think the word you’re searching for is ‘loyal’ or maybe ‘dependable’ or perhaps ‘correct.’”

“Oh, yeah? How about ‘gullible,’ or ‘complacent’ or…”

“Get a room guys…” Ned says as he spins in Peter’s desk chair, but it’s perfunctory by now. 

“This is Peter’s room,” MJ shoots back. “You can either stay and deal with whatever happens or leave and we’ll tell you about it later.”

“Are you…inviting me to watch you make out?” Ned’s revulsion is plain on his face.

“Interpret that however you want.” MJ leans into it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, guys.” Peter says, putting a hand to his face. “Can we _not_?”

MJ and Ned exchange quick glances and lapse into a silent agreement to Be Good.

“Okay, let’s be organized about this.” MJ pulls out a notebook. “Let’s write down what Peter wants to know and what his positions are on their possible reasons for calling the meeting. That way you know what you’re going to say and it will take some of your anxiety out of things. And I’ll text the number and tell them where the meet is.”

“Where _is_ the meeting?” Peter asks.

MJ smiles widely. “Where every small group can get a quiet space in a public building at short notice. I reserved a study room at the library.”


	3. Library AU (Why Isn’t That a Thing?)

Chapter Three – Library AU (Why Isn’t That a Thing?)

MJ really did. Saturday at 2:30 they were on the books for study room B, maximum occupancy 12 people at her favorite local branch of the Queens Public Library. MJ figures it was plenty of space for 3 former Avengers, 1 junior Avenger, and 2 high school sophomores. 

Ned pulls MJ aside on the way there. “Look. I gotta be honest. As much this is the culmination of every fantasy I’ve ever had, dating back to when I first discovered that Captain America wasn’t just a WWII myth dreamed up to scare us into flossing, I’m not sure I can be cool about this.”

MJ stops dead on the sidewalk and gives him her best assessing glare. “What would you _not_ being cool look like?”

“Well…hyperventilating, indiscriminate marriage proposals, pleas to adopt me. I can’t really predict in what way my brain will break down.”

MJ’s glare doesn’t abate. “And would future!Ned ever forgive past!Ned for skipping this opportunity?”

He hangs his head. “No. Never.”

“Then get it together, Leeds.” MJ puts a hand on his shoulder and spins him around, pushing him to catch up with Peter, who had kept marching down the street, his brain already three blocks ahead and up in the second-floor meeting room, reserved under the library card of Michelle Jones.

Arriving at the library, they climb the steps and push open the doors, passing kids and their parents and other library patrons in ones and twos. A woman in a black hoodie, gothy boots, combined with a denim miniskirt passes them heading the other way. Peter’s head whips around, his eyes big, and MJ thinks, _well there’s one._

They don’t spot any broad-shouldered men reading magazines or asking reference questions and make it up to the meeting room without chickening out. 

It’s empty.

Peter collapses into the first chair with a whoosh of relief, and MJ yanks him back up. “Nope. It’s more of a power move to choose a seat with a full view of the door, back to the wall. It would be better if there wasn’t a window, but since we’re counting on them to be the good guys and _not_ crash through a library window, I think we can risk it.” Of course, what she doesn’t say is there’s always a slight risk of someone _else_ who’s after the on-the-run former Avengers deciding to come in through the window, but since she’s _trying_ to be the voice of calm here, it doesn’t seem like the right thing to mention.

Peter obediently shifts over to a chair on the other side of the table, farther from the door, but immediately pops back up again and starts to pace in the tiny space available.

Ned takes the chair. “Guy in the chair,” he says happily. 

MJ decides to lean against the wall in the corner, making sure to angle her feet out of the way of Peter’s pacing.

There’s a tiny window in the door and every time someone passes by in the hallway outside Peter pauses to look at them before continuing his pacing. “What time is it?” he asks. 

“2:27,” MJ answers as she pulls her sketchbook out of her backpack at her feet. This afternoon feels like it’s going supply a ton of material if only she can keep up. She contemplates the light in the room. Not bad. The study room has clean white walls with gray accents, and appears to have been very recently touched up and cleaned. The graffiti is minimal and not super inspiring. Boo.

Steve Rogers opens the door, a stack of books under one arm. He stops, framed in the doorway, unbelievably cool, with a freaking beard and plaid lumberjack coat. He’s not exactly blending in with the local population, but who would think that large man who looks as though he might plausibly have been out amongst the trees that very morning was also America’s Hero (only slightly tarnished by that pesky arrest warrant.)

“Hey, did you know that all you need to do to get a library card here is to show your ID and one piece of mail with your address?” Sam Wilson is at Steve Rodgers’ heels, and shuts the door behind the two of them. He has his own small selection of library materials.

_Not_ how she thought this get-together would open, but MJ cannot let that one pass. “Do you seriously live around here? Do you even have a real ID? You’d better not be scamming the library and then never bring those books back.”

Sam Wilson shrugs. “Real fake. I mean, all I want is to check out some DVDs and maybe one of those biographies on the new book shelf. I’m a slow reader because I keep falling asleep while I’m reading, so I figure that’s all I should get to start. But I absolutely promise to return them.” He holds up one hand. “Ma’am.”

Throughout this exchange, MJ is aware that Peter has stiffened, and is now vibrating with the intensity of all of his held-in anxieties.

She’s not the only one who’s noticed. “Hi, I’m Steve Rogers,” Captain America says and extends the hand not holding the pile of books across the table towards Peter who takes it, looking up into the eyes of the man he last saw when they were punching each other in the face.

“I know,” Peter says. “And you know I’m Peter Parker.”

“Do you want to introduce your friends?” So polite.

MJ jumps in. “I’m Michelle and this is Ned.” As if he didn’t know or couldn’t find out their last names. Ned gives a small wave. “We’re here as witnesses and moral support. We realize that if you’re here for a fight or kidnapping, we can’t stop you, but Peter shouldn’t have to be here alone.” _He gets in trouble and makes poor choices when he’s left alone_ , she wanted to add, but didn’t, because really, she _was_ on Peter’s side, here to help, and that shouldn’t include embarrassing and undermining him. 

“Thank you for your honesty,” Steve Rogers says. “It’s not going to be anything like that. We just want to talk.” He gestured to a chair. “Can I sit down?”

Sam was already slinging himself into a chair opposite Ned, and sliding his books and DVDs onto the table. “Hey, man,” he says to Ned with a nod. 

Ned sighs. “Hey.”

“So not to be abrupt,” Steve says, “but where are you on the Accords radar? Did you sign? Have you spoken to anyone? Officially? How much did Stark tell you?”

“We’ve never….” Peter shakes his head. “We’ve never talked about the Accords. And I don’t know what they know about me. I mean, I don’t even really know who ‘they’ are. Who should I be worried about?”

“Jesus.” Steve rubs his face. “This is what I was afraid of. Okay. Well, the fact that you’re still out on the streets, doing your usual thing without interference suggests that Tony has kept you hidden. Or more likely, made a deal. So, I’ll give him credit for that at least. But hiding you isn’t a long-term solution. Part of why we wanted to meet, talk to you, was to start reaching out about the future. About what comes after the Accords. We wanted to know if we can ever find a better way than how things went down before, but it’s gonna take some time.” He laughs. “A lot of time.”

“Um….” Peter says. He starts pacing again.

MJ wants to bust in, to say _you know he’s only 15, right? Lay the hell off_. But this is Peter’s business. She’s here to listen. Not to put words in his mouth and force him to make the decisions _she_ thought were the right ones.

Peter speaks for himself. “I don’t – it’s not – I can’t be public about this whole thing. Not now. Not yet. Not without giving up things that I’m not ready to give up. If I get on some general’s list or sign some agreement, then I can’t be myself anymore. I’d be giving up a lot more than oversight.” He rubs the back of his neck. “And I don’t want to sound – naïve? But this isn’t why I started doing all this. To go to meetings and to hang out with – you.” Peter quickly puts up his hands in apology. “Not that this isn’t a dream come true. It is. But that’s not what I’m good at. Talking, I mean. Obviously.” He attempts a smile. It looks painful.

Steve jumps in. “Hey, don’t worry. You’re doing fine. You don’t have to have to give me a speech about who you are and what you do. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. This is just us reaching out. We didn’t exactly meet under the best of circumstances and I’m sure whatever you’ve heard about me since then hasn’t exactly been positive.”

Peter shakes his head. “Mr. Stark doesn’t talk about you, really. Except to assure me that you could totally take me anytime you wanted.”

“I meant from the press, but I’m not surprised Tony doesn’t want to rehash things with you. Neither of us came out of that mess with clean hands.”

Sam couldn’t let that one lie. “Don’t try to cover for Stark. I know you still think you guys might be friends again, but give Parker the respect of telling him the truth.”

“I _am_ telling the truth,” Steve said evenly. This was clearly well-worn topic. “And maybe we’ll save all that for another time. I’m just glad to know that Tony hasn’t roped you in and given you a serial number.”

“You should say ‘branded.’ You’re mixing metaphors,” MJ mutters under her breath. Steve and Peter both slowly turn to look at her. “Oops. I guess I shouldn’t editorialize around people with super hearing.”

“Hey, I heard you too. But I respect the side-comment,” Sam says. “I believe you kids today call it subtweeting.”

“I heard it too, but I really wasn’t paying attention,” Ned adds. “Also, nice bird joke.”

“Thanks, Ned,” Sam said.

“No problem, Falcon.” Ned beams.

“I apologize. Please continue being excessively fair to each other.” MJ mimes locking her lips and tossing the key over her shoulder.

Captain America _attempts_ to look exasperated. Oh, how he tries! But MJ can also see a tiny smile. She always _knew_ he had a sense of humor in there somewhere. No one could do all those stupid PSAs straight-faced without a shred of self-awareness or humor. Right? There had to be some irony in there _somewhere_. For the thousandth time, MJ wondered if those PSAs involved blackmail… What could be _so_ incriminating that Captain American agreed to record himself scolding teenagers? She’d read his official biography – and the unofficial ones, the ones cobbled together on message boards threads, from scans of old documents, and so on. And of course, she’d read Peggy Carter’s memoirs – all three volumes, actually. And while some of it was Director Carter so clearly skipping over classified stuff or doing the WWII equivalent of vague blogging, it was pretty freaking clear that Captain America had had a major problem with authority and following the rules. He wasn’t the priss that the school administration wanted everyone to believe.

Now Steve Rogers is giving off some big brother vibes, radiating warmth and understanding. “Look, I just wanted to make contact. To meet up in a neutral location where we weren’t under any sort of pressure. You don’t have to ever see us again, but I did want a chance to explain my side of the story.”

“Like divorced parents,” Peter says, cutting MJ a look. She gives him a nod in acknowledgement and tries not to look too smug. “You and Mr. Stark are battling it out for custody of all the people who can do the superhero stuff and you wanted to get a word in, see what I could tell you about what’s he’s up to.” 

“I wouldn’t put it exactly like that, but it’s not very different. I won’t ask you not to tell him you saw us, but I do want to thank you for not having him waiting here for us. You could have done that, but –”

“No, I wouldn’t have. I don’t want to see you get caught, not that I think Mr. Stark would have had you arrested or anything like that. And then I’d always be wondering what you would have said to me without him here,” Peter says. “You guys have a history that you’re going to have to work out sometime and that’s not my business.”

“It _is_ your business what happens with the Accords, though. And if you want to have a say in how decisions are going to be made, I’d like to keep in touch. More or less off the record.”

“I don’t want to see you get caught, but I’m not going to lie to Mr. Stark. Not any more than I might have already.” Peter’s jaw clenches. MJ recognizes the signs and shoves upright off the wall, ready to say something inappropriate to ease the tension, to get him out of there. She’s gotten really good at it.

“Of course.” Steve holds up his hands. “I don’t want you to lie to Tony, but until he and I sort things out – _if_ we sort things out – then it would be better to do this without him. Although I won’t ask you to lie to him, I know you’re close, I would ask that you not keep him informed about the particulars. Where and when. Future meetings. Anything that he could use to try to bring us in.”

“I’m going to have to think about this. It still feels like I’m sneaking around. You probably know that he’d wouldn’t take this meeting as you being friendly.”

“No – you’re right. He wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean –”

_Click._

The door swings open, and everyone’s heads swivel towards the gum-popping platinum blonde in a denim miniskirt and doc martens who enters. “Hey, guys. Did you know they’re doing a drag queen story time downstairs in the kid’s section? It’s pretty….” She trails off as she looks at all their faces. “Oops, sorry. I guess I was a little late and you started without me. But you should have heard the story time. It was wild. The kids love it. I bet if we hurry, we can all catch the end.” She stops. “What?”

Steve scrunches up his face like a Muppet and says, “Allow me to introduce Natasha Romanov.”

There’s a silence only broken by a tiny ‘wow’ from Ned.

“You were done, right?” Natasha says. Those famous lips curve into a smile. “You seemed done.”

Peter rubs his hands on the legs of his jeans. “Yeah, I think we’re done.” This time, he looks back at MJ with a pinched little line between his eyes and then she knows it’s _way_ past time to get out of there. Time to get far, far away so he can go run around on rooftops in a stretchy suit and not think about any of this. He doesn’t care that the assassin/spy Natasha Romanov who he was previously terrified of has arrived and is looking him over like he’s a snack, he doesn’t care that he’s in a tiny room with Captain _fucking_ America, or that three people he’s admired forever want to talk to _him_ – he’s done.

MJ grabs her backpack and shoves her sketchpad back in. “Well, it’s been great. But I got some holds to pick up downstairs. Plus, we’ve all got homework and probably some shitty video games to play, so we’ll be in touch.” Ned takes the hint and stands up, his wide eyes never leaving Natasha Romanov.

“Sure, sure. We just…” Steve looks at Natasha who nods encouragingly. “We just wanted to talk. Keep our number in case you need to get in touch.”

“We shouldn’t all leave together,” Natasha says. “Spying 101. Larger groups are more conspicuous.”

Was she making fun of them? MJ couldn’t tell. But it’s not like all six of them were going to head down to the drag queen story time together, right?

Natasha leaves first. She’s next to the door, after all. “Nice meeting you all,” she says and waves indiscriminately to the room.

Sam gets up, grabs his media, and puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “See you all around. Nice to talk to you without all the extra equipment,” he says to Peter. Then he finger-guns in Ned’s direction. “Stay cool.” He winks at MJ and then he’s gone.

And then it’s just Captain America. “Thank you for your trust. I hope this isn’t the last time we meet.” He shakes Peter’s hand. Ned scoots forward and goes in for a handshake as well. MJ just inclines her chin. She’s good. “Goodbye.”

They’re alone again, back in the ordinary world – the plain white walls, the muffled quiet, the world without larger-than-life heroes who ask questions whose answers are uncomfortable at best and world-altering at worst.

“I need…I need to get out of here,” Peter says in a rush. 

“Go,” MJ says. “Just go.”

He hadn’t waited for her permission. Peter was already out of the room, running through the library, no doubt getting shushed by librarians. MJ imagines the children’s librarian telling him “Walking feet!” She’s sure he doesn’t listen.

“Wow,” Ned says. “That seemed to be going well, and then…”

MJ shoulders her backpack. “I think it’s fair to say that there’s a lot to unpack there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never been to Queens (does the La Guardia airport count?) so I’m just hoping that somewhere there’s a library branch and a coffee shop that fit the story. Sidenote, the Queens Library system looks amazing.


	4. Date Night (Ha. No.  Just kidding.)

MJ doesn’t see Peter the rest of the afternoon. Not that she expects to. She hangs with her best friend from her neighborhood who she hardly ever got to see now that they go to different schools, does more homework, has dinner, and then selects one of her freshly acquired library books for the evening. In her world, Saturday night = reading night, even after she and Peter got together. (Explaining to her mom that ‘date night’ wasn’t a thing anymore was a conversation that should have been recorded for future anthropologists. Her mom was hip, she was cool, she just couldn’t understand why MJ and Peter didn’t _go out_. Hanging out and doing homework or watching movies at home didn’t seem very romantic to her. And she doesn’t even know why they don’t do anything most nights….)

Now, it’s close to midnight, and MJ is 379 pages into her first book when there’s a tiny knock on her window. On the third floor.

“It’s open,” she calls and keeps reading.

Peter slithers through and then carefully shuts and locks the window behind him. The only time that window is locked these days is when Peter’s inside. Since he started visiting, MJ just leaves it open. Peter knows this, but still knocks every time.

(Peter keeps saying she should keep it locked _all_ the time. “It’s not safe. Someone could try to break in.”

“On the _third_ floor?”

“Someone evil. Like me, but evil.”

“Someone like you, who’s also evil, isn’t going to let a flimsy window lock stop them. And I don’t want to keep having to get out of bed to let you in. It makes me grumpy.”

He stops arguing after that.)

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey back,” MJ says. “Lose the suit.”

But he’s already shucking it off. MJ watches over the top of her book. That particular move hasn’t gotten old. Nope, not at _all_. He gets it down to his feet and then flicks away like a dirty sock. It ends up on the floor treated just like a heap of old clothes, instead like a suit of techno-fabric made by a billionaire complete with a built-in AI and sneaky tracking. But instead of leaving it there, he takes a moment to throw it in her closet and very firmly shut the door. Take that, surveillance protocols!

MJ scoots over in her bed and flips up the blankets for Peter to slide in beside her, quickly covering him up again before cuddling him close. He’s cold, which isn’t normal for him, since he tends to run hot, plus all the exertion of being a super-powered individual. Peter folds his arms into his chest and he dips his head into the crook of her neck, making her shiver from the feeling of his breath and the scrape of his cheek. MJ wraps her arms around him, spreading one hand over the bare skin of his back, while keeping a hold of her book with the other.

“What are you reading?” he asks, his voice muffled in her shoulder. 

MJ shifts the library book over the blankets. She’d closed her finger in it to mark her place, which now seemed like very short-sighted. She sighs and gently lowers the book onto the floor beside the bed. “N. K. Jemisen’s new one. My hold came in. Pretty sure I was at the top of the list.”

“Oh, yeah? Number one on the holds list. No one would dare get in front of you. You must be super excited. I know you’ve been counting down the days until you could get that one.” MJ can’t see Peter’s face.

“Yeah, it’s so good. I even forgot to snack.”

“Wow, really? That good?” He sighs a little and tucks himself closer. He’s starting to warm up as MJ – using both hands now – tightens her arms around him. She’s just wearing a thin t-shirt and underpants and can feel every point of contact between them.

“So…do you want to talk about what happened today? Or do you want a book report?” she asks.

Peter sighs again, a deep heart-rending sound that makes MJ feel like huge meanie.

“No, I do not, in fact, want to talk about today. I want to forget about complex moral questions forever. Can’t I? Can’t I just _not_ worry about that stuff?” His voice is plaintive, he’s sounding every bit of his fifteen years.

“Sure, nerd. Just checking in.” MJ rests her cheek on top of his head and listens to his breathing slow until she knows he’s asleep. She waits a few more minutes before sliding her arm out from under him and rolling over to retrieve her book from the floor. Oh, and where’s her phone? She feels around for it and finds it under her pillow. She snuggles down again with her back against Peter, who makes a hilarious snuffling noise and drapes an arm over her from behind before sliding back into a deep sleep, his breaths regular against her back.

_Peter just fell asleep here don’t want you to worry_ , MJ texts May. They had exchanged numbers a while ago, at first in a friendly way – hey do you want to come for dinner? Did you see this article about the protests this week? – but then to sort of reassure each other in moments where each knew the other would appreciate being updated about Peter’s continued survival. Maybe Peter had texted May already to say where he was, maybe he hadn’t. It didn’t hurt to send a quick text just in case. May is extremely cool about MJ and Peter being together, and MJ really wants it to stay that way. Plus, Peter would be upset with himself if he made May worry unnecessarily. That last one more than anything else was probably the reason that she bothered…

That done, MJ tucks her phone away, finds page 379 again, and falls back into her book. 

***

Later, much later, after MJ has finished the book, turned out her light, and finally slipped into unconsciousness, she’s awakened by a soft brush on the nape of her neck.

“Nooooo….” she says. “I’ve been asleep for, like, twenty minutes. Let me _sleep_.”

“Okay.” The light kisses don’t stop.

MJ groans. “Really? You’ve slept for hours and _now_ you’re up for making out.”

“I’ll stop. I’m stopping.” He doesn’t stop.

Instead his arms tighten around her and just like that, she’s wide awake, jolted into delicious awareness of his body pressed against her back. She tips her head a little so his mouth can reach more of her neck and grinds herself against him. Peter seizes the opportunity to slide his mouth down to her shoulder, and then he tugs down the neck of her t-shirt to continue kissing his way down her back.

“Is that in your way?” MJ asks, but she’s already wriggling out of her shirt, yanking it over her head with much less grace than gusto. She tosses the shirt and rolls to face him. She can imagine more than see his grin in the dark in the split-second before Peter finds the same spot on her opposite shoulder, while pulling her close and sliding his hands down her back and into her underpants. MJ makes a tiny squeak of – surprise? encouragement? – oh, it’s both – as he cups her ass and drags her hard against him. Who needs sleep? No one currently in this room for sure.

MJ threads her fingers through his hair as his head dips lower, following her shoulder to her collarbone to her breast. He rubs his cheek over her skin first, then his mouth. Oh god, his _mouth_. MJ gasps as he finds her nipple, and he freezes. “Is that okay?” he asks, concerned.

“Please continue,” she wheezes. “I will use my words if I want you to stop.” Is he for _real_? But he does continue, touching her gently with his hands and mouth, and increasing in intensity as she urges him on with her hand at his head and neck.

Her breasts are suddenly cold as he abandons them to slide up for a kiss, eyes wide and bright in the darkness. Well, _someone_ sure is feeling a lot more chipper after a nap. 

“Really, carry on,” MJ says in between kisses. “I liked where you were.” 

Peter draws back obediently, and MJ suddenly wishes she could see his face better. When they had first gotten together – months ago now – it had taken about a week for Peter to actually believe that they were really for _real_ happening. For that week, every time he saw her, he seemed to be amazed all over again, hesitant even. When he tipped over into accepting that MJ wasn’t messing with him, that neither of them was under the influence of a sci-fi brain serum or some nonsense, he had come at her with an intensity that she hadn’t been expecting and that – if she was honest – still unbalanced her just a _little_ with the realization of what it meant to have so much of his heart under her power. 

It was a hell of a responsibility.

A responsibility that MJ is totally capable of handling. Even if it meant occasionally (often) affirming to him that she was exactly where she wanted to be. MJ – ever the cynical observer – is willing to throw away all that cool distance to tell Peter _yes, absolutely_ to every question he asks.

“Is this okay?” he asks sliding his fingers into the waistband of her underpants and pushing them slightly down, ready to stop at the tiniest hint she feels that he’s pressuring her, but not hiding his eagerness.

MJ nods then finds her voice. “Yes,” she croaks. “You, too.” And she thinks he nods too in the darkness. Then he’s pushing her underpants down, and it’s awkward because it _always_ is, her long legs tangled up in the blankets, both of them kicking until they’re free of the last of their clothing and then – _oh_ , she’s naked and he’s naked and Peter braces himself for a moment above her and she doesn’t have to _imagine_ his smile and then he’s back to kissing her: mouth, neck, shoulder, breasts, and down her belly to part her legs and nestle between them.

For someone who she couldn’t get to cross second base on the night they first hooked up, Peter had caught up with _major_ appreciation and then rounded third with gusto, making his home there ( _metaphorically_ , but also _not_.) Peter being Peter, he constantly checked in before every advance, but otherwise he was very focused. One might even say goal-orientated if one was able form coherent thoughts. 

MJ feels his hot breath on her sensitive parts and then his hot _mouth_ , and she makes a tiny involuntary squeak. She doesn’t know if it’s Peter’s enthusiasm or just his extra-abilities that makes him soooo good at this despite literally only learning how to do this in the last semester. Who ever heard of someone getting superhero abilities that make them extremely good at oral sex? Who would talk about it if they did?

(MJ is absolutely never bringing it up again while they’re both naked. The one time she did, interrupting things just as they were getting interesting to ask Peter if he thought his tongue had any enhanced _abilities_ , it completely killed the mood to the point where neither of them could look the other in the eye without giggling uncontrollably, and they had to just get dressed and go out for gelato even though they had the apartment to themselves all night. Peggy Carter’s memoirs were frustratingly useless because MJ refuses to believe that Peggy didn’t snaffle Steve Rogers down like a _snack_ , whether before or after the serum. MJ’s third reread of her memoirs was just to see if there were any helpful hints about how to handle someone who might be sporting a little extra. There were _no_ hints _._ Maybe there’s an online support group somewhere…)

Maybe… _ohmigod_. Her brain shuts the hell up as Peter focuses, using everything he’s learned in the short time they’ve been together (MJ has not been shy about showing him exactly what she likes and how to get her off. Peter has not been shy about taking direction.) And maybe she’s already halfway there or maybe he’s just that good because her veins flood with fizzling bubbling feelings, chasing away any words thoughts ideas…. And then there is a slow bloom of heat and fire over her body and she falls into it, plummeting into warmth and brilliant sensation.

Later, or perhaps right away – time telescopes in and out as she rides out the waves – Peter slides up her body, skin on skin, and the friction was so delicious against her that she twitches – just a little – arms and legs weakly trying to wrap around him. “Was that – was that good?” he asks. And how do you even answer that? 

“I love you, you idiot,” MJ says.

“Wow, um. Is that all it takes?” he teases, supremely unaware of how stupidly amazing he is. And she could tell him, tell him everything she feels and it would go to his head, but never change him. He’d still be kind and reckless and stupid. “Can I – can we?” He fumbles around, hands gentle but clumsy in the dark.

MJ languorously stretches her arms over her head to find where she keeps the condoms, pulling one out with nerveless fingers. He tries to take it from her, which she appreciates because, hello! post-orgasmic fumbling, but really, she’s got this. She trails her fingers down his chest, nudging against him to slide her hand between where they’re pressed together. 

“You can be on top this time. Just this once, since I’m very tired now.” MJ puts a pout into her voice. The back of her hand rubs against her still tingling clit as she grasps the hard thing that was pressing into her belly. She wants to touch him, give him back a little of what she’s just received, but as she moves to slide down, he stops her. “No, I – raincheck? I think I’m on an expedited timeline here. I really just want –” He buried his face in her shoulder and so she takes pity on him, extracting her hand long enough to open the condom wrapper before gripping him firmly (she must be recovering a little) and unrolling it.

More than a little. “Actually, I want to be on top after all,” she whispers in his ear.

“I think I kinda expected that… “ he says into her neck, tilting his hips just enough for her to work, and she unrolls the condom over his erection with only a little fumbling. “It will be my turn someday. I know it will.”

“Only if you’re very good,” she says and pushes him onto his back, before throwing her leg over him. They haven’t been doing this long enough that this is easy or smooth. Maybe it’s never easy, but their eagerness for each other and the intensity of every touch overrides the lack of grace. 

MJ laughs quietly as she struggles in the darkness to align Peter just where she wants him. She leans forward and her hair falls around her face and shoulders as she maneuvers, one hand gently wrapped over his hard, condom-covered bit, trying to make everything come out right. If only her hair would behave. MJ swats at it as she tries to lean forward – nose to nose with Peter – but she can’t do more than that.

Then she feels Peter’s hands smoothing back the strands falling around both of them, gently gathering her messy curls together and twisting them loosely around one of his hands. Her heart squeezes at the tender care in his gesture just as she finds the _exact_ right spot and feels him slide inside her. And _ohmigod_. MJ suddenly just needs to taste Peter right now. She closes the inches between them, clacking their teeth together and smashing – gently – herself into every inch of him she can make contact with. His hand still wrapped in her hair goes to cup the back of her neck, deepening their kiss, and then he loses control. He makes a noise like he’s drowning, stiffens, and then goes limp.

_Ha._ MJ continues moving for a few moments and laughs into his mouth. “New record? For shortness?”

“Shut upppp…” His hand releases her hair and flops down to the bed. Now he’s just spread-eagled under her, arms out flung.

“Or was that you holding out? I’m never sure.” She bounces for a little, enjoying the stimulation on her sensitive parts, but not expecting it to do anything more than enhance her afterglow.

“You’re a jerk, did you know that?” Peter whines.

MJ cackles and rolls off of him, flopping onto her back, letting an arm and leg drape over him.

“I’ll have you know that I must have approaching super human self-control to last as long as I did, given the circumstances.”

“Sure, tiger. You tell yourself that.” MJ rolls over to nose her way closer to him and nudges him until he gets the hint and wraps a shaky arm around her. “Actually, take care of that first.” She flicks the oily condom. “And then we cuddle.”

Peter obligingly gets up to deal with the offending item and returns a moment later to pull her close. MJ puts her head on his chest and he wraps his arms around her. He smooths down her cloud of hair away from his face, then leaves his hand on her head. The warm weight is crazy soothing. She’s almost asleep when she hears him mumble. “I love you, too. I forgot to say it earlier…” 

“I know you do,” she says and crashes into oblivion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head, MJ’s mom is some sort of sex-positive medical professional, which is where MJ gets it from. Probably this will be disproven immediately when Far From Home comes out and we get even the tiniest amount of backstory for MJ, but I’ll cling to this while I can.


	5. Pancakes

Chapter Five – Pancakes

“So, I guess what I’m saying is that I should totally Parent Trap them. You know, set it up so they _have_ to spend some time together and talk things out. If only I could do that without the risk that they’d end up _punching_ things out,” Peter says over pancakes the next morning.

They’d woke up midmorning and Peter had a mild to moderate freak out, at first because he realized he’d forgotten to tell May where he was and then, once reassured that MJ had texted May, over maybe having to face MJ’s mom after obviously spending the night in her teenage daughter’s bedroom and all the debauchery that implied.

“Okay, listen,” MJ had said. “My mom’s not here. Early shift at the hospital. Second, you know she’s cool with you being here and with the fact that we’re screwing. We’ve had this conversation and my mother is a fully on board with the school of thought that teenagers should be honest with their parents about their sexual activities, own their sexual selves, blah blah blah, I actually can see you blushing right now.”

“I know, I know. I just…” Peter flapped his hand in front of his face. “I just feel like I have no idea what I could possibly say that wouldn’t be completely wrong and bad whenever I think about seeing your mom after what we did.”

“I cannot deal with all the gross patriarchal assumptions and unhealthy attitudes about teenage sexuality in what you just said before I’ve had breakfast, so let’s just get on with the pancakes,” MJ had said.

“How is that to do with the patriarchy when we’re talking about your mom?” he’d asked.

MJ just gave him a look. “Do you really want to talk about this right now? Be honest.”

So, pancakes.

And now, to avoid talking about sex, Peter is ready to talk about adults acting like children.

“Yeah, it’s like they both failed kindergarten. ‘Use your words, children.’” MJ tries out a schoolmarm voice.

“No, really. What if we tricked them into meeting somewhere that they’d be too embarrassed to start fighting? Maybe then?” Peter gestures with the spatula. He’s in charge of the pancakes this morning. MJ can perfectly well cook for herself, but honestly, she doesn’t want to.

“ _Do_ they have any shame?” MJ wrinkles her nose skeptically. “I mean, didn’t Tony Stark actually destroy his own house or something? Like more than once? I can’t remember. But I wouldn’t trust them both at the library, for sure.”

“Well, what are our options? Ice cream parlor? Zoo? High school commencement?”

MJ says, “I want to laugh, but really all I can picture is the two of them totally trashing _all_ of those places. Ice cream cones flying. Kids crying. It’s a whole scene.”

“Yeah,” he says glumly. “I can’t really think of a single place that would be neutral enough ground and that they wouldn’t destroy if one of them lost their temper. I mean, they trashed an _airport_. It’s embarrassing, now that I think about it.”

MJ lunges for the pancakes coming off the griddle. They are still scalding, but she is _starving_. No snacking while reading + Peter sleeping over + waking up late = empty stomach. Which is probably why she’s being so impatient with Peter’s squeamishness. 

“You know, I’m starting to really understand the need for some oversight for these guys. We’re joking about it, but we can’t trust two grown men who are actually on the same side not to get in a fight and trash wherever they happen to meet up.”

“You’re _starting_ to understand the need for oversight? Okay, _wow_.” MJ just burned her mouth on a pancake, but she’s sure that’s not why she’s feeling so mean. “I get that you love all these guys, but what gives them the right to just jump in whenever they feel they need to tip the scales? Rescuing people is one thing, but they’re getting involved in governments and civil wars and…what happens if it turns out that that new dude, Vision or whatever, doesn’t like gay marriage. Does he get to use his eye lasers on everybody? Or heck, does he get to stand up and give a speech against it? Just because they have powers, doesn’t make them more worth listening to than everyone else.”

“Honestly, I don’t think that Vision cares one way or another. I mean, he’s a robot, or whatever so human distinctions probably don’t mean a lot to him…”

“Missing the point…”

Peter scrunches up his face and actually looks sort of grumpy, which is new and different for him because he’s usually pretty charmed by her biting comments. “ _Hey._ I realize that you’re pretty much full time cooler and smarter than me, but give me some credit. I’ve been thinking about this, but it’s not like there are easy answers. If there were, someone else would have thought of them and I wouldn’t have to deal with all this bullshit, right?”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter how smart I am. Or how it shouldn’t all be on you. Here you are. What are you gonna do about it?”

MJ spears another pancake, and starts chewing, ignoring that it’s still a little too hot to eat. Ow. 

Peter puts down the spatula. “I think I know what I want to do next… What I _should_ do.”


	6. Coffee Shop Redux (They Just Really Love This Coffee Shop, Okay?)

Chapter Six – Coffee Shop Redux (They Just Really Love This Coffee Shop, Okay?)

And they’re at the coffee shop again, for the irony. (“Why do we keep going to our favorite places, MJ asks Peter. It’s like we want them to get them trashed if something goes wrong?” Peter just shrugs. “It’s just comfortable, probably.”) It’s the following Saturday evening, so it’s busy, but not crowded. MJ and Peter get there first, or they try to. Who’s to say who might be lurking in the back? Peter goes for a smaller table near the back, while MJ sets herself up a short distance away.

“I don’t have to be there,” she had said when they’d planned this out. “In fact, it might be better if I’m not. You know, like you’re a big boy. It can’t be a good look to always to drag your girlfriend along to these things.”

Peter didn’t seem worried that Captain America was going to think he needed a babysitter. “I guess it’s just like I like to hear your take on things. After or whenever. You always notice stuff that I don’t, so it’s like instant debrief.”

“Okayyyy,” MJ had agreed. “Not gonna argue too strenuously, because it will make it easier for me to get the whole story from you if I’m just _there_ for it.” Peter didn’t need her to hold his hand and she certainly wasn’t going to rescue him if things went sideways with _Captain America_ , but giving her opinion? _Born_ ready. 

So, she sits down, a book open on the table before her next to a steaming mug – neither solely camouflage. If they had to wait long, she might as well make it through some pages and be happily caffeinated.

This time it’s only Steve Rogers – that they can see. He ambles in wearing something in the inconspicuous suburban dad genre, and MJ doesn’t know how every set of eyes in the place haven’t snapped to him, drawn by the obvious threat he represents. Why doesn’t that dude who’s writing a novel on his laptop by the window notice? How about the older couple in near-matching ironed jeans and neat blazers looking at a guidebook? Why isn’t that mom with the stroller flat-out running away after one glance at the mountain of coiled muscles in plaid who’s advancing on the high school sophomore? Why doesn’t anyone _notice_? Sure, it’s New York City – Queens – but _still._ You don’t need spidey-sense to see this guy is a weapon.

It's possible MJ is projecting some of her own feelings onto some oblivious bystanders. She’ll admit to that much.

There’s the usual background thrum of voices, but it’s not so much that MJ can’t listen in when Steve starts talking. Hopefully it’s enough to keep anyone around them from getting an earful though. Imagine stopping at the local coffee place for a bit of people watching and overhearing a conversation that’s between two people who either escaped from psychiatric holds at Bellevue or who were for real an on-the-run super soldier and an underaged spider-powered vigilante? MJ is pretty sure she’d listen in on that too, whichever way it turned out. But no one except MJ is within earshot, so MJ doesn’t have to deploy their back up plan of acting Very Strange in public and scaring people away. 

“I’m glad you decided to meet with me again,” Steve Rogers says, lowering himself carefully into a chair that was probably not built with someone of his dimensions in mind. “I didn’t like how our last conversation ended. I think I might have made things sound a little more hostile to Tony than I wanted to. Sam is still holding tight to his grudge over how things went down, and I don’t want you to think that that’s motivating why we’re here. You guys are close and I’m not here to change that.”

Peter nods. “Yeah, I get that. At least I think I do. This isn’t some weird power play, as far as I can tell. But I had some questions that I didn’t get a chance to ask. I was hoping you could help me figure them out, if you even know.”

“Sure. Of course.” Steve sits back, nodding and trying so hard not to appear to condescend to the 15-year-old. 

“Why hasn’t anyone come after me to sign the Accords? Which did Tony do? Hide me or cut a deal?” Peter jaw works after he spits that one out. MJ recognizes the tension and hopes Steve does too.

Steve shifts a little, but doesn’t flinch. “I think he cut a deal. I think he vouched for you so they’d leave you alone until you’re an adult. Either they are holding off bringing you in because of Tony, or he’s told them to keep their distance and not pin you down because he’ll bring you in. Which is almost the same thing. We haven’t burned all of our contacts, and it seemed that there was a definite no-fly zone where you’re concerned.”

“And if I hadn’t gone with him to Berlin? What would have happened?”

“I can’t say for certain, but probably you would have gotten a visit by now. You’re not as hard to find as you’d probably like to be. We had some clues that other people wouldn’t, so it was easier for us, but not impossible.”

“That makes sense,” Peters and presses his lips into a straight line. Translation: _shit_. “You know, he offered for me join the Avengers. Back in the fall. At the time I thought it was everything I wanted, but then – I was in that big building upstate – you know the one, right? You lived there?”

“Yeah, it’s huge. Sterile. Echoes in weird places.”

“Yeah, I noticed the echo. Anyways, at the time, I thought he was testing me again –”

“Again?” The question is casual, but MJ notices how Steve sits up a little straighter. 

“Sort of. It’s a long story. But afterwards, I think it might have been real. I dunno. Anyways, if it _had_ been real, then I probably would have had to sign the Accords right then, huh?”

“Most likely. What did he say?”

“It didn’t come up. But then, maybe it was all a fake-out.”

“Maybe….”

“Yeah, maybe…”

Steve seems to be debating saying something else, his face working as he sits tall again. But then, he relents just the tiniest bit. “I think – I really think – you should just ask him.”

“Yeah,” Peter says and lets out a giant lungful of air. “Listen. I don’t mean to make this all about me – As stupid as it sounds, before you brought it up, I was super complacent and didn’t even think about it.”

Steve interrupts. “No, don’t. You _shouldn’t_ have to think about it. And since you do, it’s absolutely right that you should be concerned about yourself first.”

“Thanks, but you don’t need to reassure me. I’ve got plenty of people around me reminding me to be selfish once in a while.” His little half smile makes MJ wonder if he’s thinking of May or Ned or her or maybe all of them. “But I do have some catching up to do about the Accords. They seem flawed – flat out wrong in places – but not entirely unnecessary. I don’t mean to be rude, Captain Rogers, but just joking around about setting up a surprise meeting between you and Mr. Stark was scary because we realized we can’t trust you guys not to start fighting and be a danger to people. And why do I think it’s okay for _me_ to go around doing the things I do? Just because I think I’m a good person and I’ll might be able to right thing to do in the moment? There’s plenty of people with powers who abuse them. Why should people just trust that I’m any different?”

“Because you _are_ different,” Steve says. “Only someone like you would choose to help instead of showing off for his friends or stealing or threating people.”

“It’s not that simple,” Peter says softly. “You’re putting too much trust in me, or in any one person, to always make the right decisions. It’s hard to know what the right thing to do is. And people make mistakes all the time. _I_ make mistakes.” There’s a beat and then he clears his throat. “What I’m trying to say, is that maybe there’s some level of self-regulation that will make sense. It’s only when the generals and lawyers get involved that things start getting scary. Mostly. I don’t know. I do know that I agree with you that I don’t trust anything calling themselves oversight right now. You have even more reason that I do to mistrust any organization claiming to know better, but I’m being fed a pretty steady diet of conspiracy stories that makes me wary.” _Oh_ , MJ realizes. _He does listen to me_.

“No, I think you’re right. We’re still trying to come up with something sane, and something where we don’t have a one-size fits all approach, where we all still get a say in how much we do, how much we share, that’s what we’re thinking about. Self-regulation. Something like that.”

Both fall silent for a moment. At least Peter has a drink to pretend to be engrossed by. Steve hadn’t even paused at the counter for appearance’s sake.

This is boring.

MJ starts reading again.

Steve is the one to break the silence. “I’m just going say this and then you can ignore it and go on doing things how you see fit, but I gotta say it. You do know you can still walk away from all of this. You still have a life that hasn’t been split open by a mission yet. I understand the impulse to use the skills you’ve got, but it isn’t selfish to hold onto your life. I know people who tried to make things right so they could back to normal with their families. You could do that, step away. Your face isn’t out there, you don’t have enough of the history yet that you can’t stop.”

Peter attempts a laugh. “You sound like my aunt. And didn’t you say, no matter what, I’m pretty much screwed over by the Accords.”

Steve shrugs. “If you back away they might just –”

“Back _down_ , you mean. Just pretend I can’t do the things I can. Pretend I can’t hear people in trouble. Nah.”

“I had to say it,” Steve says spreading his hands in an apologetic gesture.

“Yeah, I know.”

They both look down again.

“Listen,” Peter says finally. “I’m glad we got to talk. I think you should talk to Tony – Mr. Stark – yourself. Do it soon. Because coming to me first…that’s gonna look like you’re trying to go around him.”

Steve winces. “I know. Do you think he’d talk to me now?”

“I don’t know. Probably. I think he’s hoping you’ll get in touch. He’s the one out there, easy to find.”

“I left him a phone, just in case.”

“Only for emergencies? Or for talking?” Peter tilts his head. “Call him.”

“Don’t just drop by?” Steve’s smile is a twisted little thing.

“If you do, just warn me first so I can be out of town.”

“Wow? Your lack of confidence hurts.” He switches to that familiar winning smile, the one in all the pictures and posters. “But will do.”

Steve stands up to go, and MJ is in suspense. Are they going to hug? Just a manly nod? Handshake? Steve seems like a very handsy person, so MJ expects a hug. But he takes Peter’s hand and clasps it in both of his for a long moment. Finally, he says, “You don’t really need me, or anyone else, but if you want to get in touch for anything, I’ll be there.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” And MJ can tell it does, and in a different way than it would have only a few weeks ago.

Steve drops Peter’s hand and turns to go, making ironic eye contact with MJ who gives him a mock salute. “Thanks for keeping the condescending bullshit to a minimum,” she calls in a carrying sort of way to make sure he hears it, ignoring Peter’s immediate glare. “Much appreciated on all sides.”

Was Captain America going to laugh? “You’re welcome, I guess.” And with another brief hand to Peter’s shoulder, he’s gone, into the night. Or whatever.

Peter slides into the chair opposite MJ, and she lifts her feet and puts them back down in his lap. 

“Well?” she asks.

“Well…I don’t want to talk about it now. Debrief later.” He reaches out to fiddle with her spoon. “Wanna go do something? Like, I know it’s Saturday. Reading night. But maybe we could go out. I’ll text Ned and see if he’s up for something.”

MJ sits up from her slouch. “What are you thinking? Movie? There’s a poetry slam in a little while that might be amazing. Or – “

“Sure. Sounds great. I’m in.”

“You’re not busy? Doing you know…” She rolls shoulders and does a little shimmy that a charitable person might recognize as a reference to his webslinging.

“Yeah, not at the moment. Later. But for now, let’s go do …something….”

MJ senses something in this moment, a weird restless energy rolling off of him. He won’t look her in the eye, his gaze roaming over the rest of the coffee shop, without stopping on anything, his hands busy. Peter drops the spoon and grabs her hand. “What do normal teenagers do these days? Can we look up some clichés and try them out?”

“I like that.” MJ takes a last slurp from her cup, stuffs her book into her backpack, then stands up while and takes Peter’s hand again. “What kind of dumb clichés are we talking? Loitering on street corners? Are we moving up the timetable on Ned’s summer experiments?”

“I don’t know. Something we can look back on later and say, ‘wow that was stupid’, like eating too many doughnuts or damaging our hearing, not like getting _arrested_. That’s too much dumb for me.”

“We could just text Flash, find out what he’s doing. Whatever it is, I’m sure it would be just like falling out of the cliché tree and hitting every branch.”

Peter just says “Ha.” It isn’t actually a laugh; he just _says_ the word. Which of course makes it sound like the mirthless opposite of what it means. He’s leading the way out of the coffees shop as he says it, making her jog a little to keep up as he pulls her along. MJ can’t see his face and suddenly she really needs to. 

“Hey, wait. Just wait,” she says, but he keeps going They’re already in the middle of the block, charging off …. where exactly? “Can we just…” She grabs his shoulder with her free hand.

“What?” Peter says, half-turning without stopping.

MJ takes in his wide, wild eyes, his tight almost-painful grip on her hand, and says “Nothing. Never mind. Let’s go.”

And they go. Off to be stupid teenagers together for at least this one night.


	7. Coda (Yes, It’s at the Coffee Shop)

Coda (Yes, It’s at the Coffee Shop)

A week later, MJ is at the coffee shop again, alone. Same table, different homework. Government this time. Well, that’s how she started, working through the assigned reading and then … one rabbit hole later, prompted by their upcoming quiz on the judicial branch, and she’s flipping through articles and blog posts on the Hague and international courts and tribunals and –

– And Natasha Romanov slides into the seat across from her.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” says MJ stupidly back. Is that really what you say to an international assassin? Well, the international assassin said it first. Peter is patrolling, Ned is out Nedding somewhere, and MJ is alone in an oasis of calm in a crowded coffeeshop with a blonde woman with a sleek updo, a Gucci handbag, and several hidden weapons. Well, that last part is assumed. MJ can’t actually see anything so sloppy as a telltale handgun bulge or anything that signals that the woman sitting across from her isn’t some lost Brooklynite, slumming in the part of Queens that doesn’t actually have a Starbucks.

_What are you doing here? Am I in trouble? You know Peter isn’t here?_ So many questions stampede through her brain, but MJ manages to hold them all back. Instead, she folds her arms and waits.

“What’s good here?” Natasha asks. “Got any recommendations?”

MJ hides a smile because she wasn’t the one to speak first. “Depends. Sweet or not? Caffeinated or not?”

“What are you drinking?” Natasha peers into MJ’s battered mug, one of the staples of this place and its aggressively shabby-chic brand.

“Coffee. Black.” MJ lies. In actuality, she’s drinking some fantastic tea had to be double steeped or somesuch thing but doesn’t want to admit it to the _international assassin._

“Cool. I think I might get a frap.” Natasha turns in her seat to look back at the counter. “Will you still be here when I get back? It’s okay if you won’t.”

Natasha is giving her a chance to nope out of this. To not have a one-on-one with someone who terrified Peter, the actual person with superpowers. But nah. No way in hell is MJ missing out on a chance to find out why Natasha’s here. 

So, she stays put, blows on her tea out of habit, and watches Natasha order and pay (with cash) and then slowly return to the table gingerly holding the messy glass mug in one hand and a chocolate chip muffin in the other. She slides into the seat again, and MJ doesn’t remark on her snack choice, even though she really _really_ wants to. Black Widow is a secret chocolate fiend? Who knew?

Natasha turns the handle of her mug with just the tips of her thumb and finger, probably trying to avoid the chocolate and whipped cream already oozing down the size. She has a tiny smile on her face, watching MJ who is _not_ smiling. She’s hoping for impassive, but probably she just looks sulky. Whatever.

After a few minutes, Black Widow takes a hesitant sip of her frap and said, “Can I call you MJ?”

MJ tilts her head. “Not to be rude, but only my friends call me that.”

“I understand. Then should I call you Michelle?”

“Sure.”

“You can call me Natasha, if you want.” She takes a bigger sip.

Like hell. It had never been one of MJ’s dreams to be on a first-name basis with an Avenger, (Peter, on the other hand, is still hoping that one day he’ll get to team up with Thor) much less the sneakiest one. 

And it’s not like MJ wouldn’t have loved to pick Black Widow’s brain, under different circumstances. MJ has _questions_. But this is something different. A power play, perhaps.

Then, like they’re already in the middle of a conversation, Natasha just starts talking. “Sam chose Brooklyn as a joke, I think. We needed a base in the city and he thought that Steve would get a kick out of being in his old neighborhood. But I think it’s just making him sad, to see how much everything’s changed. We’re probably going to move on soon. We were anyways, but it’s hard on Steve to be here so I think we’ll go early.”

“Your buddy Sam better return his library books before he leaves,” is the first thing out of her mouth.

“I’ll pass that reminder on to him.”

Long silence.

“Why are you telling me this?” MJ had tried to hold back the question, but the strain overwhelms her stubbornness. “And why are you even here? Because if this turns out to be about Peter and everything to do with him, it’s coming across like you think I’m Peter’s handler or social secretary or something. It’s gross and insulting. I expected better from _you_.” MJ realizes she shaking a little bit. Oh, she’s surprised to discover that actually she’s _pissed_.

Natasha drops the smile. “You’re right. That’s insulting. You’re none of those things, and I not here to talk to you as a way of getting to Peter. I’m here to talk about _you_.”

MJ throws her head back and groans. “Then why didn’t you just say that. Why all the sneaky small talk?”

The smile creeps back. “Habit, I guess. A lot of people feel more comfortable when you bring things up slowly. Ease into things”

“Yeah, well or they’re just hoping they can distract you and then escape. Anyways.” She shakes herself. “What do you want to talk to me about _me_ for? Is this _still_ actually about Peter? Are you going to warn me how dangerous is to be near him or that this will all end badly? _Also_ , gross.”

“Have you ever heard of Project Insight?” Natasha’s smile has vanished. 

MJ’s brain shuffles around until it can serve up the connection. “Yes. It was what you talked about in your hearings. The targeting program. I saw the clips. But it’s over. Defunct. You took it down with SHIELD.” MJ raises her chin. “ _Didn’t_ you?”

“Yes. It’s gone. But its inspiration lives on. Part of the Accords and their enforcement seems to be people brainstorming how they’re going to know who’s avoiding being noticed. Who’s coming up in the ranks. Who’s going to be a player in five years. In ten.” Natasha takes a sip and raises an eyebrow. Damnit. That was cool.

MJ rolls her eyes. “Are you trying to scare me? That’s really not me. I’m not going to be signing up to punch things. Really not my scene.”

“They aren’t just looking for hitters. They’re looking for people behind the scenes. Agitators.”

“Please oh please call me a mastermind. That would really make my entire _year_.”

Natasha shrugs. “You’re on the list. You’ve gotten someone’s attention.”

“That’s bullshit. Because I’m loudmouthed and swapping spit with a super-hero? Total Fascism.”

“I don’t disagree.”

“Look. There are hundreds of kids just like me – thousands. I see them at school every day – every weekend at Academic Decathlon meets. We’re all over-caffeinated over-achievers who have realized that the world is bullshit. That list can’t be that useful because it’s either so huge as to be unmanageable or so full of holes that they’re going to look like idiots when someone they’ve never heard of goes for world domination,” MJ’s out of breath.

“There are different levels. Ned’s on there too. Not with as many blinking red asterisks as you do, but he’s there.”

“Is that supposed to make them sound more credible? Am I supposed to be comforted or alarmed by that?”

“That’s up to you. I only wanted to give you some information so you’re better equipped to recognize patterns, opportunities – pitfalls.” Natasha gestured, her hands wide on the last word.

“Okay, explain. How’s this gonna play out?”

“They’ll try to recruit you first. No doubt it will sound like big break, but it will be some way of looping you into their control. It will be great resume fodder, but it will steer you away from the sort of people and activities that lead you to question the status quo. You’ll get invested in keeping things exactly as they are.”

MJ frowns. “Why do I feel like you’re getting all your terminology from episodes of _Leverage_. I watched that show years ago with my mom. Don’t tell me that no one in sneaky extra-government organizations has come up with anything better.”

Natasha’s lips curve into a definite, undeniable smile. “Well, there’s some overlap between Hollywood and covert groups. Mutual admiration and so on. Descriptive terms are that everyone knows can be useful at times. More useful than code words.”

“Sure, whatever.” MJ takes a deep breath. “For the record, I think what you do, while cool and necessary, is pretty much just a big band-aid on the world’s problems. If I want to make difference, to really help people, it’s gonna be from the other side, solving problems by keeping people from getting in danger in the first place. I want to help people have good lives to begin with, not rescue them.”

“Admirable.” Natasha keeps a straight face, doesn’t even laugh at her earnestness like MJ is sure she wants to. “And that’s why you’re so dangerous. You want change. The people who make lists like these don’t want that kind of change. They want people like me to clean up their messes and reassure ordinary people that someone will be there if the worst happens.”

“I know you’re here trying to warn me, but all I’m hearing is that I’m doing something right to have people worried that I’m gonna rock the boat.” MJ shrugs. “So…great. Thanks for the encouragement. I think I will keep on exactly as I have been.”

“Good.” Natasha takes another sip.

Well, fuck. Did MJ just play right into Natasha’s hands? Was this all just some twisted way to get MJ fired up about something. She feels a little queasy, thinking back over their conversation. “Are you manipulating me? Would you tell me if you were?”

Natasha sighs a little, and suddenly MJ thinks how tired she looks. “I’m not sure what I could say that would reassure you. You can either believe me or not, your choice.”

Okay, huh. MJ thinks about this. Some dude shoves past them talking loudly on his phone, and they wait for him to move out of earshot, both contemplating the other.

“So, what the heck are you guys doing in the city anyways,” MJ says finally. It’s a peace offering, but she’s also dying of curiosity. “Is there some sort of mission or are you only in town to see Peter?”

Now Natasha smiles because she recognizes the question for what it is. “We’re on a sort of Accords tour, going down our list and checking in on people. In between incidents, of course.”

MJ scoots forward in her chair. “Did you try to meet up with Jessica Jones? Luke Cage? Did Jessica Jones tell you to go fuck yourselves?”

Natasha shakes her head, but she’s amused. “Yes, and that’s practically a direct quote. She threw us out of her office, and then used the contact info we left to bill us for an hour of her time. It was impressive.”

“Yeah? I thought I saw her once, outside a restaurant on the Upper West Side. She was tossing some guy around, but there was a crowd, so it was hard to tell if it was really her. Probably, it was because who else gets away with that kind of shit, right?”

Natasha rests her chin on her hand. “Yeah, well not to ruin the moment we’re having, but that’s sort of what we’re thinking about. Who gets to throw people around and what the consequences are.”

“You want to police _Jessica Jones_? Way to take the fun out of everything.”

“Yeah, because we’re having so much fun already.”

“Okay, depressing, but fair. But you do have _fun_ , right? Sometimes this whole superhero thing gives you some kind of joy and fulfillment, right?”

“Are you this direct with everyone?” Natasha asks.

“Dunno. What does my secret file say?” MJ says, leaning back and crossing her arms.

Natasha actually laughs now, and MJ feels a little thrill because she made _Black Widow_ laugh. Sure, it might still all be a ploy, but it was pretty cool.

“You are a secret softie,” MJ says. “Peter is deathly afraid of you, but I think you’re actually a fluffy bunny on the inside.”

Natasha takes a sip. “No one has ever said that about me before.”

MJ tilts her head. “To your face, maybe.”

“I feel like you’re warming up to me,” Natasha says. 

“Depends. Are you gonna share that muffin?” MJ asks. She’s not actually joking.

“Listen.” Natasha is back to being serious. “If you’re okay with it, I’m going to give you my number. Because maybe nothing will happen. Maybe I’m being alarmist and all the opportunities that will come your way are going to be on the up and up. But if you ever want someone to give you a second opinion, an extra set of eyes on a problem, then just text me and I’ll find out everything I can.”

MJ considers Natasha’s somber face. “I’m not going to pretend to be offended by this.” She unlocks her phone and slides it over to Natasha who punches in a number and returns it. “What? No warnings about only using it for emergencies?” MJ deadpans as she checks out the new contact listing. It’s not the same number that Sam gave them on the card. _Natasha_ it simply reads and then a number with an unfamiliar area code. Could be Nebraska or Iowa City or Albuquerque. MJ will look it up later, just for fun.

Natasha shrugs. “Are you going to be texting me a lot?”

MJ also shrugs. “I might.” _Yes._ “And, is there maybe a group chat I can join?”

Natasha closes her eyes. MJ thinks she can actually see her counting to 10 before she gives her head a tiny shake and says, “I think something could be arranged.”

“Great.” MJ beams. “Because I have some personal questions that someone superhero-adjacent might be able to answer.” And she reaches over to break off a piece of Natasha’s muffin and pops it in her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far! I did it! I posted this before Far From Home came out! Woo!


End file.
